just remembered getting one when I was a kid, and figured you’d like one.”
“I saw you kiss my mom. I saw you kiss her before, too.”
“Yeah.”
After setting the measuring tape down, Harry folded his arms. “Why are you kissing her?”
“Because I like her. Maybe you should talk to your mom about it.”
“I’m talking to you.”
“Okay, fair enough.” So the answer, Beckett decided, had to be fair enough, too. “I like your mom a lot. Kissing’s a way to show it.”
“Are you getting married?”
Whoa. How did he explain to an eight-year-old the long, sticky stretch between kissing and marriage? “We like each other, Harry, and we like being with each other, doing stuff together.”
“Laurie’s getting married, Mom said.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You can’t ask her to get married unless you ask me first. I’m the oldest.”
“Okay.”
“And you can’t kiss her if she doesn’t want to.”
“All right.”
“You have to swear.” Though his eyes and voice went fierce, Beckett saw his bottom lip tremble a little.
Brave boy, he thought. Damn brave boy. “You know, I lost my dad, too.”
Harry nodded. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, it’s hard. Sons have to take care of their mothers. It’s our job. You’re doing a good job, Harry. I won’t kiss your mom if she doesn’t want to. I won’t ask her to marry me until I ask you about it first.” Beckett held out a hand. “I swear.”
Harry studied the hand a moment, studied Beckett’s face. Then shook.
“Are we okay, you and me?”
Harry jerked a shoulder. “I guess. Do you come over to play with us so you can kiss Mom?”
“That’s a nice benefit, but I come over to play because it’s fun, and I like you. But I’m not going to kiss you.”
That made Harry snort out a laugh before he picked up the tape again. “Did everybody get a measuring tape?”
“No, everybody got something different.”
“Can I see?”
“Sure. I got this little level for Murphy. See when you set it down, you check these bubbles here in the middle. See the lines there, and the way the bubbles sit in between them? This table’s pretty level. Otherwise.” He lifted one end of the level so the bubbles tipped. “See?”
“Yeah.” Fascinated, Harry tried it himself. “That’s awesome.”
“And this is a Phillips-head screwdriver.”
“Who’s Phillips?”
“Good question. I’ve got no clue.” He’d have to look it up. “They call it a Phillips-head because, see it’s got ridges in the point instead of being a flat-head like a regular one. This one’s small enough so Liam can unscrew the battery cases on your toys when they need changing.”
“It’s pretty cool.”
“If we had some more tools and some materials, we could build something, sometime.”
The boy perked up. “Like what?”
“We’ll think of something.”
“Okay. I like the measuring tape. I like it’s real and all. I’m going to show Liam and Murphy, and measure something.”
“Good idea. I’ll be right there.”
Beckett sat for a moment when the boy ran off. He hoped he’d handled that thorny matter the right way. He felt like he had, but, whew, he was damn glad to set it down again.
CLARE SIPPED THE champagne Avery provided and studied Hope’s apartment. Clean, she thought, serviceable—and temporary. Obviously Hope felt the same, as she’d kept the furniture move to a minimum.
“I sold a lot, gave some things to my sister. My brother took the bed. I didn’t want it, and he didn’t have any qualms about sleeping where I used to sleep with Jonathan.” She shrugged.
“I figured I’d wait until I move into the apartment across the street before I bought a new one. For now, I’ll be fine on just the new mattresses.”
“Smart.” Avery toasted her. “You should look at Bast, down on Main. Most of the furniture for the inn’s coming from there. And Owen told me they’d hold anything that comes in until they’re ready to load in. I’m sure they’d do the same for the innkeeper.”
“Maybe. I’ll take a look anyway.” Hope studied the packing boxes, the bare walls, the bare floor. “Oh God, what have I done?”
She turned a quick circle, eyes wide and a little wild. “I’ve sold half my things, I have stuff I don’t know what to do with in storage. I’ve moved from a place I loved, and I won’t have a real job for God knows how long. Why did I do this?”
“You’re just anxious,” Clare began.
“Anxious? Anxious isn’t in the same hemisphere with what I am. This is crazy. This isn’t like me. I don’t even know